Louis replied with a sigh. He related what had taken place at the great dinner, and the wrong impression Mr. Smithson had derived from the curé’s imprudence. He also told us of Albert’s arrival, and gave a brief account of their interview.
“This man’s unexpected appearance has caused me sincere pain,” he said. “It has excited a thousand fears only too well grounded. Is it because I think him capable of destroying my most cherished hopes?... No; not if it depends merely on him. His meaningless face, his affected and pretentious manners, and his vacant mind, are not calculated to fascinate Mlle. Eugénie. Her nature is entirely different from his. His defects must shock her. But the man, from what I am told, has the luck of being in his aunt’s good graces. Who knows but Mme. Smithson herself induced him to come, with the positive intention of giving him her daughter’s hand in marriage?...”
“It is possible,” said Victor, “but you have one good cause for hope in spite of everything. You acknowledge yourself that such a man cannot please Mlle. Eugénie. Now, she is a woman with a mind of her own, and her parents are very indulgent to her. These two reasons induce me to believe she will never marry him.”
“She is different from most women,” replied Louis. “Her filial devotion may lead her to accept the husband her parents propose.... Ah! if she loved me, I should not be alarmed on that score. For an instant, I thought she did; but the longer I study things calmly, the more inclined I am to believe I was lulled by a sweet illusion.... She does not love me yet. It is possible she might, had things remained as they were. Everything will take a new turn now. This young relative’s arrival will absorb her attention, and how do I know but she will even end by taking him for what he pretends to be—a grave, thoughtful man?”
“I have no fears on that point,” said Victor. “If this intruder is the superficial person you suppose—and he is, I believe—he will not deceive a person so observing as Mlle. Smithson.”
“He is her cousin.... Every one in the house treats him with great affection.... Mlle. Eugénie is young and without experience, ... and the man in question does not lack a certain ability.... He has already annoyed me in more than one way.”
“Is it possible! How?”
“I told you that at our first interview he immediately expressed a wish to aid me in the work I had undertaken. I promised to introduce him to my school that evening. He was so urgent that he excited my suspicions at once. My fears were only too well founded, as you will see. I had scarcely been a quarter of an hour in the schoolroom, before he came in with Mr. Smithson. I am anxious not to exaggerate anything; above all, I do not wish to calumniate him. It is, therefore, with all sincerity I tell you that this designing man, at his first visit, so arranged everything as to take the precedence of me before my scholars. With his arm passed familiarly through his uncle’s, he entered with a mere salutation of condescending patronage. Then, after going to the door with Mr. Smithson, who had business elsewhere, he remained as if to superintend and direct me, as the master of the house might have done, had he wished to assert his rights. I repeat it: this fellow only came there to make the workmen feel that he was, even in my night-school, if not the master, at least his representative, and I the humble agent. In fact, without consulting me, he began to give advice to one and another, making a great deal of noise, and meddling with everything, so that, thanks to him, nothing was done. He disturbed everybody, and was of no assistance.
“Of course, the idle and talkative, as well as those disposed to flattery, took to the new-comer. As to me, I frankly confess he had a singular effect on my nerves. However, I restrained myself, and said nothing to him that evening. The next morning, he called on me, and announced his intention of beginning a series of lessons on political economy. As you know, I am in the habit of reading aloud every evening from some good book—a historical incident, an anecdote, or a moral extract calculated to interest the workmen. To this I join some familiar explanations and reflections of a moral and even religious nature. This exercise, as simple as it is beneficial in its results, was not to his liking. He wished to replace it advantageously, as he said, by instructions apparently learned, but in reality useless and even pernicious. Nothing is worse than to waste great words on people absolutely destitute of elementary knowledge. But the very ignorance of his audience attracted Albert. He thought he should dazzle them without much effort, and without running the risk of their finding out how little he really knows. I listened very coldly to his proposal. When he left, he gave me a slight glance of spitefulness which was ominous of evil.
“That night the young man did not appear in the schoolroom, but the following evening he presented himself. This time he made so much confusion that I could not conceal my annoyance. He perceived it, and left the room. I regretted not having, perhaps, restrained my feelings sufficiently. I followed him into the next room. He received me with insolent haughtiness, and took my explanations unkindly. When I had finished, he thus addressed me: